


Personal Space

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Blanketverse [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Ableist Language, how has it taken me THIS LONG to finally write some logicality?, oblivious gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Patton has always been affectionate with Logan… until he’s not.It’s not a big deal to Logan (until it is)





	Personal Space

Later, Logan will attribute his noticing to Virgil. He was fairly certain he would have figured out the source of his malaise without assistance eventually, but he is, regardless, grateful to Virgil for speeding the process along before the situation could escalate further out of control.

The three of them – Roman having begged off of dinner prep for the evening after coming back from the imagination covered in dirt, mud, and other questionable substances – were preparing dinner. Virgil had been relegated to the less demanding task of readying the garlic bread to go in the oven to toast, while Logan and Patton were moving around one another, cutting everything that needed to go in the pasta sauce into suitably manageable pieces.

Logan had been unaccountably irritable for the past week. He was doing his best to hide this from the others – it wouldn’t do to be seen emoting all over the mindscape, and he certainly wasn’t going to stoop to  _sulking_  – but it was becoming increasingly difficult, especially because he had no idea what could be making him so frustrated.

But while he hadn’t figured out what was vexing him in general, what was  _currently_ driving him figuratively nuts was that Virgil kept sending him  _looks_ _._ Their frequency was only outmatched by the obliqueness – Virgil’s expression was indecipherable. Logan only knew that every time he caught Virgil staring at him out of the corner of his eye his irritation ratcheted up one more setting.

As the pasta sauce finished coming together, Roman chose that moment to enter the room.

“Virgil! Light of my life, apple of my eye, song of my heart, I’ve missed you like the sun,”

“You saw me an hour ago, Princey,” Virgil said flatly, but he had an undeniably pleased expression when Roman wrapped his arms around him from behind and buried his face in Virgil’s neck.

“Still true,” muttered Roman, his voice muffled by the hoodie. “Hey Specs, Padre,”

Patton was grinning from ear to ear, clearly delighted at their affectionate display. “Hello, Roman,” he said as he leaned over to ruffle both Roman and Virgil’s hair. Logan felt a spasm of unexplained irritation.

“Evening,” said Logan, and Virgil was  _looking_  at him again. His voice was perhaps  _slightly_  clipped; what of it?

Dinner and the clean-up following it progressed in much the same way, even with Virgil now slightly preoccupied with Roman. Logan should have found them nauseating, but even with his recent state of discontent it was hard to be anything but pleased for them when they seemed so happy.

As he retired to his room, Logan was already resigning himself to another night spent tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling and wondering just what was  _wrong_  with him the past couple of weeks. Lost in thought, he didn’t realize Virgil had followed him until he turned to shut his door and startled when he found the other side standing directly behind him

Virgil was shifting side to side, his hands covered almost entirely by his sleeves and wringing the hem of his hoodie. He clearly wanted to say something, but he merely stood there, silently fidgeting.

“Is something the matter, Virgil?”

“I just-” Virgil fiddled with his sleeves, “It’s none of my business, but-” he cut himself off and made a frustrated noise.

“Virgil, you are free to share your thoughts with me. I am highly unlikely to be offended by any question or comment you may have,”

“Are you and Patton fighting?” Virgil blurted.

Logan had never quite understood the narrative device of the “record scratch” until this moment.

“I- what?”

Virgil began to flush pink. “Never mind, it’s dumb,”

“Nothing that concerns you this much is dumb, firstly,” Logan started, “Secondly, I am merely confused. What has given you the impression that Patton and I are fighting?”

Virgil shrugged and made a vague gesture.

“Y’know, you guys are usually all…  _touchy_  while we make dinner and you weren’t. You barely looked at each other all night,”

“’Touchy?’”

Virgil covered his face and groaned.

“Yeah,  _touchy_  like – you’re always holding hands and stuff and you haven’t been and I just- I don’t know, it’s not my business, I shouldn’t have-,”

“It is perfectly understandable for perceived conflict between members of your peer group to upset you,” interrupted Logan, who was surprised to find his voice entirely level despite the reeling in his mind, “You were right to ask rather than let your worry fester into something worse. However, I can assure you Patton and I are not fighting,”

Virgil relaxed slightly and Logan felt a pang of…  _something_  in the general vicinity of his chest.

“I apologize for any distress this has caused you,” Logan said.

“I-it’s fine,” said Virgil, “Sorry for- I mean- I didn’t mean to freak out about nothing,”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Logan assured him.

Virgil nodded then, and made a gesture that may have been a wave or an aborted salute, before scurrying off to his room down the hall. Logan shut the door, but made no attempts to move from his position. Instead, he glared at the wood as though it had personally offended him.

Touchy.  _Touchy._  His initial instinct was to dismiss it as ridiculous. He and Patton were not  _touchy._

Except now that Virgil had pointed it out, Logan realized they  _were_ _._ As Virgil had said, Patton frequently held his hand if they were walking in the same direction; he telegraphed his placement when they were doing tandem chores with soft touches to Logan’s back or arms. Patton’s most common method of getting Logan’s attention was to plaster himself to Logan’s side.

And Virgil was right again on the other count – Patton had not so much as brushed him while preparing dinner that evening. And when Logan looked back on the past weeks, he realized Patton had not done so in quite some time.

Logan was not sure how he felt about this revelation. On the one hand, it should not have made a difference. There was no reason Patton should or should not be touching him – it was an irrelevant data point.

On the other.

Well, on the other hand was a metaphorical locked box of data points that fell into the  _feelings_  category, and Logan was loathe to open it and examine them more closely. There was no  _logical_  reason that the absence of Patton’s affection should leave him feeling so… bereft.

Logan shook his head, resolving to put the issue out of his mind. It didn’t matter.

It  _didn’t_.

* * *

It mattered.

If Virgil had  _not_  pointed it out, Logan is almost certain he would have realized several days later, at the biweekly movie night.

There were certain… _rituals_ , associated with movie night, for lack of any more appropriate term. Patterns the four of them followed that were not agreed upon beforehand but still came to fruition each time.

Virgil would start the evening sitting up straight, his phone in hand and doing his best to look disinterested in whatever they were watching. But by the end of the first movie, he would be curled up in Romans lap, and nine times out of ten he would already be asleep. Roman always made a big show of complaining that Virgil and Logan wanted cinnamon popcorn while Roman and Patton preferred theirs with only butter and salt, and it was a pointless discussion because Roman always ended up making two different batches of popcorn anyway.

Logan always sat down in the armchair when he first came down, and Patton always cajoled him until he joined the rest of them on the couch.

Tonight, Logan sat in the armchair as Patton loaded up the movie, and Patton said nothing.

He said nothing while Roman was making the popcorn, and he said nothing as everybody else took their seats, and finally, when Patton picked up the remote, pressed play, and sat back on the couch – leaning, Logan noticed, into the space where he usually sat – Logan realized he  _was not_  going to say anything.

Logan did not absorb any of the movie after that. Indeed, if questioned about it later he was certain he would not have even been able to give the name of it.

It was- there was  _precedent_  for these behaviors, and no clear reason for them to have ceased, it made no  _sense-_

 _There was no **reason**  for the behaviors to begin with and therefore they do not  **need**  a reason to cease, _he told himself firmly.

It did nothing mitigate his distress.

And he… he  _was_  distressed.

No matter how he insisted to himself that this was – was  _stupid,_ frankly – it didn’t matter. He was…  _hurt._  He  _missed_  Patton, which was ridiculous because Patton was sitting four feet away from him. And it was not as if Patton was  _obligated_  to provide Logan with physical contact, regardless of whether or not he had done so in the past.

As the credits rolled he got up stiffly and bid the others goodnight.

Patton looked concerned – usually Logan made it through at least the second movie – but when he opened his mouth he only paused for a moment.

“Well, goodnight, Logan,” Patton said finally.

Logan’s feelings were rapidly becoming a tense knot in his stomach, but he held himself in check until he made it upstairs.

He continued to berate himself as he paced his room. It was  _foolish_ to be upset, nothing was  _wrong,_ there was no reason Logan should be troubled by Patton’s behavior, it wasn’t as if Patton suddenly hated him-

Logan stopped short.

Virgil… Virgil thought Logan and Patton were fighting.

Logan had passed it off as nothing; he was not angry with Patton, therefore they were not fighting. But he had neglected to consider the other half of the equation. Just because he had no reason to be upset with Patton did not necessarily mean Patton was not upset with  _him_ _._

Logan started wracking his brain, trying to pinpoint anything he had said that Patton may have taken offense to, but it was not doing him much good. If he had noticed Patton’s distress at the initial event he simply would have addressed it then.

There must be a  _reason_  for the change in Patton’s behavior, and Logan could not for the life of him think of another. Patton had made no efforts to cease contact with Roman and Virgil. He had been sitting next to Roman, and Virgil had been sprawled across both of them. It was only Logan he was avoiding, and therefore it must have been something to do with Logan specifically.

The metaphorical feelings-box rattled and Logan resisted the urge to groan in frustration.  _Denial_  muttered a voice in his head that sounded treacherously like Patton.

He was not in denial because there was nothing to  _deny._  The only reason he was concerned was because Patton was his…  _friend_ , and if Logan had offended him, it was his duty to apologize and resolve the situation.

 _Yeah, **sure**_ , and  _that_ voice was definitely Virgil.

Logan shook his head, as if that would somehow dispel the internal monologue, and resolved to think on it no more. He would speak to Patton in the morning – they were almost always the first two up, and Logan could simply ask what he had done to offend Patton, apologize, and cease the behavior. Patton would stop avoiding him and everything would go back to  _normal._

And if Logan spent the night curled around a hollow ache in his chest, well, that was nobody else’s business anyway.

* * *

As Logan descended the steps the following morning – an hour later than usual for reasons  _completely_ unrelated to Patton or emotions or  _cowardice –_ he spent the entire trip down insisting to himself that the sound of Patton’s sleepy humming from the kitchen was  _not_  filling him with the kind of dread normally reserved for people facing firing squads.

“Morning, Teach!” said Patton, and now that Logan was looking for it he could see how Patton’s smile was brittle around the edges; he only glanced at Logan for a moment before turning back to the coffee maker.

A stab of what Logan could only identify as  _longing_  lanced through his chest.

“Good morning, Patton,” he replied, and then felt himself go slightly heated around the ears when his voice shook.

Patton noticed immediately, turning away from the coffee maker and zeroing in on Logan.

“Are you okay?” he said, worry evident.

“I’m- I am adequate. I merely wished to speak with you,”

Something that looked like it might have been panic flashed across Patton’s face, but it was gone before Logan could examine the expression more closely.

“Sure thing, Logan!” he said brightly, “What’s up?”

Logan stood up straighter, clearing his throat and starting the rehearsed words.

“It has come to my attention that you are upset with me, and I would like to apologize,”

Patton’s smile didn’t change but he did tilt his head almost imperceptibly.

Logan found he couldn’t maintain eye contact. He looked away and continued.

“I know that normally when one apologizes, one must outline their understanding of how they have hurt the other party. Unfortunately, I-” his voice cracked but he shook his head and pushed on, “I am… rather inept in most areas of emotional intelligence, and I am afraid I do not know what it is I have done. But if you will tell me, I can apologize properly and endeavor not to repeat the action again,”

There was a drawn out pause, and as Patton continued to say nothing, Logan turned to look at him questioningly.

Patton was no longer smiling. In fact, he looked rather as though Logan had told him someone had died.

“Logan,” he said softly, “I don’t-  _honey_ , why on earth do you think I’m mad at you?”

Logan, who was not expecting that response at all, spent several moments merely blinking in confusion.

“Because you- I- what do you mean? You- You  _aren’t_?”

“ _No!”_ said Patton insistently, taking several steps toward Logan, “Of course not, you haven’t done anything at all!”

Some tightly twisted thing in Logan’s stomach was unfurling, and he had  _no business_  being so relieved. He felt, perhaps, just a tad light-headed.

“I am… very glad to hear that,” he said as his shoulders relaxed.

Patton was standing right in front of him now.

“Why did you think-” Patton moved his hand forward, as if he was going to reach out, and Logan felt his ears flush even worse.

Patton’s hand fisted suddenly and he jerked it back.

“-did you think I was mad?” he continued, his voice slightly strained.

If Logan had not been paying such close attention, he would not have noticed. But he was, and he did.

He snapped.

“ _That_ ,” he insisted desperately, reaching out his own hand and snatching up Patton’s, pulling him forward until they were  _very much_ in each other’s personal space, Patton’s hand held firmly between his own. Patton made a wordless noise of alarm.

“You won’t- you didn’t even want me to  _sit_ _next to you_ , you barely even brush past me, it’s- It’s as if you think I have some kind of  _pox._ And you have not rescinded any- any  _contact_  with Virgil and Roman, and yet you will not so much as be  _near_  me,”

Patton was gaping, his expression somewhere between astonishment and panic. He looked down at his hand, which Logan had, quite without any conscious effort, pressed against his chest. Logan had a fleeting thought that Patton could almost assuredly feel Logan’s thundering heartbeat.

Patton made no attempt to speak, but he also did not pull away. His face flitted through several indecipherable expressions before he slumped in defeat.

“I’m so sorry,” he said weakly, “I- I didn’t mean- you haven’t done anything it’s just- It’s just me,”

“Then  _why_ -”

“I just-!” Patton cut him off, and Logan felt his frustration rapidly mutate into alarm when he realized Patton’s eyes had gone slightly shiny with unshed tears.

“I’ve just- I couldn’t keep taking  _advantage_  of you like that,” said Patton miserably.

Logan’s expression must have accurately conveyed his bafflement, because Patton continued.

“I- It wasn’t right of me, when I- since I have,  _romantic_  feelings for you, to be- to be touching you all the time, when you don’t- I was taking advantage of you, and when I realized I didn’t want to keep doing it-”

Patton’s increasingly panicked voice faded into background noise. Logan felt the proverbial feelings-box rattle, once, twice, and then burst open before he could even attempt to stop it.

His ears were ringing, and he felt like he’d inhaled something that was on fire, the way his chest was burning. His hands moved up to Patton’s face as if on autopilot and before he could think about what he was doing Logan was already kissing him.

Patton froze in his hands, and that was when Logan’s brain decided to catch up.

He jerked back, sure his whole face was bright red, sputtering almost incoherently.

“I- I apologize, I should have asked you-”

Patton surged forward and kissed him so enthusiastically that Logan’s back hit the fridge.

But Logan could not bring himself to care overmuch about the clatter of magnets and paper to the floor, when Patton was insistently pressing so close to him it seemed like he was trying to fuse them together by the mouth.

Patton made an eager noise that Logan felt vibrate through his rib cage more than he heard it, and oxygen suddenly seemed like the least important thing on the planet.

“Oh,  _gross_ ,”

Patton jerked back with a yelp of surprise, releasing Logan’s shirt and taking several hasty steps back.

“Oh, um, m-morning Roman!” said Patton breathlessly.

“We  _eat_  in here!” Roman whined.

Logan, who was feeling  _exceptionally_  put out from the loss of Patton in his arms, did his best to sound neutral.

“As if we have not found you and Virgil in similarly compromising positions,” and he only winced slightly from the crack in his voice.

“But not in the  _kitchen,”_

“Excellent point,” Logan agreed, “Patton, would you be opposed to relocating to another room?”

Rather than respond verbally, Patton let out a noise that may have been a squeal or a particularly hysterical giggle, before covering his face with one hand and dragging Logan out of the room with the other.

“Yes,  _please_ , go be domestic and gross  _somewhere_ _else_ , _”_  Roman shouted as they fled upstairs.

Patton was still giggling as he pulled Logan into the first room they came upon – Logan’s own – his face flushed red and his eyes bright and an expression of delighted wonder on his face.

Logan couldn’t help his answering smile, or the soft, searching kiss he pressed to Patton’s lips, or the flurry of smaller kisses he pressed afterwards to Patton’s cheeks and eyes, his nose and the line of his jaw.

He might have been able to help the following hours they spent holding each other in Logan’s bed, but he found he didn’t really want to.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk about sander sides with me at tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com


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